


I’ll Be Your Light

by Elizabeethan



Series: Captain Wench [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Bar Wench Emma Swan, F/M, Fluff, but it isn’t described much at all, no details given though, very brief mentions of miscarriage and domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 09:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27848690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elizabeethan/pseuds/Elizabeethan
Summary: Killian and Emma travel the realms together happily, but when they’re drawn back to Misthaven, they must avoid the thing that sent them away in the first place.Summaries aren’t my thing, yo. It’s part 2 of On This Night (more captain wench)(All of the warning that applied to that story are mentioned very briefly here, although no details are given.)
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Captain Wench [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038566
Comments: 13
Kudos: 68





	I’ll Be Your Light

Captain Killian Jones has led a tortured life. He watched his mother die, was sold by his own father, and held his brother in his arms as he drew his last breath. He’s lost countless crewmen at sea. He’s seen the horrors of war. But one of the worst nights of his life was seeing Emma Swan bleeding and delirious, nearly raped on the streets outside of the seedy tavern. He couldn’t have told her then, but he had been in love with her from the moment he met her. When he saw her crumpled on the ground, he couldn't stop himself. He knew he probably should have taken her back to Granny’s tavern for her medical attention, should have insisted when she refused, but he was a weak man. A man with a code, a man of honor, but a weak one, all the same. 

He could have tried harder to insist that she find her way into the tavern to sleep, rather than offering her a place in his bed. But she had been abused and battered and attacked all in one night and she needed someone to be there for her. She needed reminding that the whole world isn’t out to get her. He hated himself the next morning, feeling as though he’d coerced her, but he still couldn't help but to check in on her at the tavern later that evening. 

When she told him she wanted to leave, he jumped at the opportunity to help her. If nothing else, he could at least ensure that she was safely away from her beast of a husband. If she chose to stay with him, that would be an added bonus of which he would happily reap the benefits. When he told her, foolishly, that he would drop her off wherever she wanted, thinking he was being helpful in not pressuring her to stay, she became so saddened that he knew immediately how badly he’d befouled. He thought that she would surely leave him, and he would let her. But when she called him a dullard and said that she loved him, he knew he would be content for the rest of his days. 

She loved him. He loved her too. And so they ran away together. 

They find themselves lounging in the sand, just two years after leaving port and never looking back. He continues traveling the realms and obtaining treasures, but she’s changed him in that he no longer feels the need to take out his anger and acrimony through pillaging and plundering. Instead, she encourages him to use his skills in bartering to make a living, and he must say, they’re doing quite well for themselves. Some of the men disliked the changes they saw in their captain and abandoned the crew, but many stayed behind and now continue to earn an honest living through trading exotic spices and jewels. 

Emma liked Agrabah quite a lot, but she says her favorite location thus far is the tropical island they find themselves on now. He likes it too; he especially likes the little dresses she wears as she traipses along the beach and the fact that she takes them off when she wants to go swimming, and insists that he remove his trousers as well. 

This afternoon was the only occasion during which they ended up in the warm waves with their clothes still on. They had been on a walk at high noon when the sun was at its brightest, enjoying the bright blue skies and the scorching white sand against their bare feet, when he knelt before her and presented her with a diamond he procured in Agrabah. She shouted excitedly, squealing and laughing and saying  _ yes, yes, yes! _ before knocking him to the ground into the water and kissing the holy hell out of him. He thought they may have drowned if she’d held him under the water any longer, but he probably wouldn’t have minded. 

“I can’t stop looking at it,” she says happily, grinning as she holds her hand out in front of her. 

He hums and smiles back at her, rolling to his side to press a kiss to her temple. “I can’t stop looking at you.” 

She blushes, just as she does every time he speaks to her this way, but he can’t help it. He has so much love for her in his heart that it hurts. 

“I’d like to be married straight away, I think,” she says. 

“Is that so?”

“Aye, it’s so,” she says with a laugh. “Who does the officiating when it’s the captain who wants to get married?” 

He hums again thoughtfully , leaning closer so that he can press her into the sand and roll on top of her. He kisses her soft lips gently once, twice, three times, before saying, “I suppose I’ll have to make Mr. Smee do it.” 

“ _ Make _ him? He’ll do it for me,” she says sweetly, kissing him again. 

He laughs. “That’s only because he’s afraid of you.” 

She gasps in genuine outrage and pushes his shoulders until she can roll over and sit atop his hips. “He is not afraid of me!”

“My love, the entire crew is terrified of you.”

“Take that back!”

“Having a woman on board a ship is considered bad luck. They shiver at the thought of upsetting you and causing torrential weather, or a run in with a mermaid, or—”

She cuts him off with her mouth, kissing him fiercely to shut him up and only further proving his point that she is a cunning and unforgiving fire of a woman. He loves her so damn much. 

“Your crew loves me, and they would do anything for me,” she insists, giving him a look that says he had best agree with her. 

He smiles up lovingly at her and tilts his head to the side, completely in awe of his fiancé, then says, “of course, my darling. Whatever you say.” 

She rolls her eyes, likely in annoyance at how easily he backed down, then presses on his shoulders so that she can stand before him and give him an expectant look. “Come now, then,” she says as he stands as well. “I need to marry you now.” 

“Now?” he asks, raising a brow and taking her hand in his so he can lead her back to where the ship is anchored. 

“Yes. Despite your rudeness, I find I can’t stand to spend another moment not being your wife.” 

He laughs aloud, releasing her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her shoulder. “Do you not want to discuss your marital needs first?”

She pauses, pursing her lips in thought, then says, “I have but one need.”

“And what’s that?” 

“You.” 

~~~~

They’re married at sunset on the helm of the  _ Jolly Roger _ , the entirety of the crew looking on as they exchange words of love and promises to grow old beside each other. She’s a vision in red, her extravagant gown one that he procured for her in Camelot last summer. When he asked why she wasn’t wearing one of her cream colored dresses, she told him that she’s far from a virtuous and unsullied virgin; he couldn’t agree more, and he couldn’t be happier for it. 

They have a view of the endless sea on one side of them, and the lush jungle on the other. The sky is pink and the crew cheers raucously as they seal their vows with a kiss, and they watch as the sun sneaks just below the horizon before some of the crew begin playing their instruments. 

He holds her close as they drift in the shallow water, her head resting against his collarbone and his against her soft hair. The salty sea air has done wonders for her tresses— they’ve become longer and thicker in the two years since they’ve left, as if the happiness she’s felt has done more than nourish her soul alone. She has them styled hastily in billowing loose curls, surrounded by some flowers that the chef, Will, found for her on the island while he was foraging for dinner. 

“Are you happy, my darling?” Killian asks against her hair, and she sighs into his skin and nods softly. 

“Happier than I’ve ever been, I’d say.” Her breath tickles the hair on his chest and he squeezes her closer to him. 

“I have to agree,” he whispers as the sky darkens and the lanterns provide a soft and comforting light around them. When the music swells, he pulls away from her just slightly and asks, “dance with me?” 

She grins up at him and allows him to guide her from the rail to the center of the deck and sway her to the beat of the melodic sounds coming from beside them. He spins her, dips her, and lifts her until she’s giggling away and turning the same shade of red as her gown. 

Will emerges from the galley carrying a small pastry meant to be their wedding cake and calls them over. They each enjoy it enthusiastically, and he kisses the powdery sugar from her lips and tastes the remnants of honey on her tongue. 

When the twilight turns to night and the crew start dropping off one by one, drunkenly finding their way to their hammocks, she leads him to their bed to make love to him fervidly. She starts off on top, grinding against him as her eyes meet his, until he can no longer stand to not be holding her and flips them over so that she’s enveloped in his arms as they fall apart the same way they do everything: together. 

When they’re finally sated, though still not content to be separated from one another, she lays her head against his chest and runs her long fingers through the dark hair she seems to like so much. His hands enjoy the feel of her soft skin as he runs them up and down her spine and occasionally cup and squeeze and blithely slap her backside, drawing playful giggles from her. 

“You’re my wife,” he whispers into the darkness, and he feels her arms tighten around his torso. 

“You’re my husband,” she breathes out. “Bit better than the last model.” 

He snorts, taking another opportunity to squeeze her flesh, and kisses the top of her head. “I should hope so.” 

She lies contentedly atop him for quite a while, breathing evenly as her skin is illuminated only by the dim flame of the lantern. He isn’t even sure she’s awake anymore when he speaks into the shadows and says, “there’s something we haven’t discussed.” 

She hums to question him and shifts languidly so that she can nestle her nose into the crook of his neck. “What’s that?”

“Only the expectancy that generally comes with being a wedded couple,” he says nervously. 

He isn’t sure how she may respond. He was certain that he’d never want to have a child until he met and fell in love with her. Truthfully, it was something they should have discussed before they wed, but it’s also something he never dares to bring up to her after her arduous experience baring a child. 

“Are you referring to your carnal need to sire an heir to your empire?” Emma asks playfully, although he can sense the tension forming in her back as he continues to stroke along her skin. 

“No, I’m referring to the natural desire to have a child that some people have after marrying the love of their life.” 

She nods and sighs, seemingly more awake as she presses onto her elbows so that she can look at his eyes. “Perhaps we should have talked about this before we exchanged vows,” she remarks with a sad smile. 

He moves his hand from her waist to her cheek and says, “it’s alright that we didn’t. Any decision that you make is one that I’ll happily agree with, I simply wanted to know your thoughts on the matter.” 

“It shouldn’t be my decision alone,” she rationalizes. He can almost see the likeness to the Emma he met years ago, timid and frightened of stepping out of line in her marriage, so he does what he can to draw her away from that place and those thoughts. 

She smiles sadly at him as he sits up slightly and rolls both of them on their sides. “It’s ultimately your choice to make, my love. This is your body, not mine, and you have the right to not want to carry children after your last experience in doing so.” Her fingers run along his cheek, tracing the scar under his eye before kissing it. 

“You’re very good at being a husband,” she whispers and he chuckles. “It’s a topic I need to consider further.”

“Take all the time you need, my darling. I’ll be here for whatever you decide.” 

“Promise?”

He rolls on top of her and moves her hair away from her eyes so that he can kiss all along her face. “I did mention in my vows that I’d be by your side for the rest of my days. Your decision regarding children won’t change that.”

“Don’t you want them?”

He shrugs. “Truthfully, I think the two of us are parents already. We have about 12 children that we care for regularly.” she snorts and nods before he moves on. “I didn’t before, but when I met the love of my life, I realized why people crave having children so badly.” 

She takes a deep breath and sighs out heavily, wrapping her arms around him and linking them just under his shoulder blades so that she can pull him close and feel his weight on her. “I love you,” she whispers. Each time she says it, his heart still races. 

“I love you, too. I love you whether you choose to have a child with me or to spend the rest of our days just the two of us. I love you more than the consequences of whatever decision you make.” 

She kisses his neck and squeezes harder. “You're a good husband.” 

“I’ve only been a husband for six hours,” he argues happily. 

“I know a good husband when I see one.” 

“Aye, I suppose you do.” 

He rolls to his side so that he isn’t crushing her any longer and she follows, pushing him to his back and hitching her knee up onto his hip and resting her head at his shoulder. “Sleep now, my love, and in the morning we’ll plan the honeymoon of our dreams.” 

~~~~

They venture away from the secluded part of the island and make landfall just outside of the small village. As Killian goes off to do some business, Emma takes the chef, Will Scarlet, with her to walk through the streets and browse the small shops. The two of them became fast friends when she’d first arrived on board, and their closeness blossomed into the very friendship that Killian wanted for his wife. It started with Will helping her with her training in swordsmanship, or swords _ woman _ ship as she often corrected him, when Killian couldn't, and they’re now inseparable and always get into mischief together. 

They spend almost a month longer in the tropics before Emma suggests that they try something new one night after dinner. “Perhaps we could visit somewhere snowy,” she’d said longingly. “I’ve hardly ever seen snow before.” 

While he’ll miss her small dresses on the secluded beach and swimming naked with her in the warm water, he could never deny her of anything for which she wished so fancifully, so he began charting the course to Arendelle, the only place he knows of that will be seeing snow this time of year. 

As they get closer, the seas get rougher, but she enjoys her days larking about with Will and sitting in her soft Agrabahan chair as she watches the snow fall onto the choppy waves. When the bird lands on the wheel as he takes the helm, he becomes curious, but it’s addressed to Emma and he dare not violate her privacy. So when the weather gets particularly bad, he chooses to take advantage of his first mate and relax with her in his quarters. 

Her face is alight when she reads that her closest friend is to be married in six months time. Ruby shall wed a lad named August, whom Emma seems to know, in the small church outside of her hometown. Killian tries not to think about the fact that he now needs to take her back to the place he’d promised to help her escape. 

They make landfall in Arendelle two days later, Emma’s face so joyous at the sight of the fresh snowfall that he knows immediately that the somewhat difficult journey was worth it. He trades jewels and some more exotic spices he procured on the small island, then spends as much time as he can with his wife. 

There are only so many wintery activities they can participate in, the joys of sledding and ice skating and snowman building only taking them so far before the cold wins out and they choose to start their charts back to Misthaven. 

He wants nothing more than to say,  _ to hell with the wedding, let’s just go somewhere else so you're safe, _ but he knows that would crush her. Ruby has been her best friend for years, she and Granny taking Emma in when she had nowhere else to go, and he couldn’t possibly deny her the joy of seeing her married off to one of their mutual friends. Also, she’s been away from them for two anda half years now, and he’s certain that she misses them dearly. 

He just can’t move past the dread he feels at the thought of bringing her back to the place that caused her so much pain. She was maimed, accosted, and struck, all in the span of a few hours. She’d dealt with verbal abuse for years. She’d conceived a child, only to lose that child and be stuck with an absolute demon of a husband. She’d lost her parents at birth and grown up as an orphan. And through it all, she was the most exuberant person he’d ever met. The idea of bringing her back to that place, where her former husband could still be lurking, made him sick to his stomach. 

But he does it for her. And when they land in the small port town she called home for years and years, she has tears in her eyes. She brushes them away with a smile and looks up at him, hugging her arms around his waist. “I’m nervous,” she whispers, and he wonders if it’s for the same reasons he is. He thinks it must be. 

“Me too,” he admits, hugging her back and kissing her temple. 

“But you’ll keep me safe, won't you?” she asks with a soft and loving smile as she looks into his eyes. 

“If it’s the last thing I do, my love.” 

“It won’t come to that,” she insists. 

Ruby’s wedding is far more put-together than their own. She has a decorated venue, middlemist flowers ordaining the aisle and wrapped through her hair, and after they exchange vows before a priest, as perhaps Emma and Killian should consider doing, the party is moved to the tavern where he fell in love with his wife. They dance the night away together, enjoying the ability to be in each other’s company here without fear of being noticed. Killian offers to buy her an ale as he wasn’t ever able to do when she worked here, but she turns him down and says she’s too tired. He can’t blame her, what with their endless travel and their long night spent dancing and laughing with friends, so he promises to take her home to the ship shortly. 

A thought strikes him, and he wonders for how long she’ll tolerate living with him on a ship. They’ve been at this for two and a half years, and they’re now married and at least casually considering parenthood. Should he buy her a house? Where would she even want to live? He thinks she would like that, but wonders if she’s ready to leave her life of travel and wanderlust. 

As the ale continues to flow through him, his love for her grows, and he thinks she must be glowing more than usual as she sits under candlelight in the corner with Ruby, laughing and catching up on all that they’ve missed of each other. Granny must agree, because when she sits beside him on a stool and bumps his shoulder with hers, she grins. “She looks good,” she tells him, nudging her head towards his wife. 

“Aye, she does.” 

“I gotta tell you, I wasn't thrilled when Ruby told me she’d run off with a pirate.” He lifts his hand off of his mug and scratches behind his ear. “But she needed to get away from that bastard husband of hers. And you’ve loved her for quite a while.” 

He laughs in surprise, eyes widening and brows raised as he looks at her before responding, “You knew, then?” 

“‘Course I knew, I'm no fool. And I know a fool in love when I see one.” He chuckles and nods at the same time as his wife throws her head back and laughs boisterously at something Ruby said. “And I know Emma Swan. She’s loved you since the moment she met you.”

He smiles at her, the woman who has known Emma longer than nearly anyone else, and nods again. “That’s nice to hear, thank you.” 

She grunts out an acknowledgement and sips some more ale. “Heard you gave up the pirate’s life,” she says, and he nods once more. 

“Felt unnecessary once we’d left. Truthfully, I hadn't done much pillaging since I met her.” 

“That so?” 

“Aye.” 

“So Captain Jones has gone soft?” 

He laughs at her, and he thinks that if he hadn’t had so much ale, he likely wouldn’t be telling her so much, but continues anyway. “I’ve always been soft. Losing my brother just made me lose my mind a bit. But meeting Emma helped me find it again.” 

She hums thoughtfully, then bumps her shoulder into his once more and says, “huh, who knew the infamous and treacherous Captain Jones was such a sap?” 

“Emma, certainly,” he jokes. 

“Yes, my love?” she asks from behind him, and he turns happily, surprised that he missed her getting up from her seat. 

“Hello,” he says with a smile, and she leans in to press a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. 

“Hm, someone’s been enjoying their ale,” she remarks at the taste of his mouth, drawing a chuckle from him. 

“Aye, it’s been a while since I’ve tasted this backwash and watched the beautiful blonde from across the tavern.” 

He feels a whack at the backside of his head and exclaims, reaching up and turning to see Granny’s irritated face chastising him. “Need I remind you, I let you sit in that corner and watch my barmaid for years before you stole her away from me? You know how hard it is to find good help these days?” 

“She’s right, my love, one cannot abase Granny’s ale in Granny’s tavern, never mind with Granny sitting right beside you.” 

He stands from his stool, apologizing to Granny and tipping just slightly to the left until Emma presses herself against him, and wraps an arm around her shoulder. “Care to turn in, milady?” 

“Definitely,” she says, yawning with perfect timing. “I’m done for.” 

They wish their friends a pleasant evening, Emma promising that they won't be leaving port just yet and will surely say goodbye in person rather than leaving a sad letter. Ruby informs them that she and August will be leaving for their honeymoon in the mountains in three days, and asks that they stay that long so that they can spend some more time together. 

“That was lovely,” Emma says as they fall into bed together. It’s been some time since he’s drank himself to this extent, but figures it was grounds for celebration. 

“It was. A bit more put-together than ours, but a nice time indeed.” 

“Ours was fairly well put-together considering we were only engaged for about six hours.” 

“Too right, love,” he chuckles, pulling her into his arms. “You miss being here?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess. I miss Ruby and Granny, but we can’t exactly stay around long, so it’s alright.”

He sighs as he holds her, letting her drift off to sleep quickly as he considers how he can fix this for her. 

~~~~

The following evening, Killian receives an invitation from August to go to a tavern that isn’t owned by his mother-in-law. He asks Emma to come, but it would seem that Ruby wants to spend time with her, and he can hardly deny her such a pleasure, so they head to Ruby’s new home while the lads spend the evening at the pub. He likes August well enough, but he can’t help but miss the image of his wife winding her way through the tavern with her blonde hair following her. 

He learns that August grew up with Ruby and Emma, and once had feelings for Emma when they were much younger. He feels childish at the jealousy that arises, but must remind himself that the two of them are both happily married. He chuckles at the man’s words, joking that he also had feelings for Emma quite a few years ago. 

“I knew it was you, pirate,” he hears from behind him, and he cocks his head to the side as he takes another swig from his mug. 

When he turns around, he sees a man he doesn’t recognize, but somehow knows all the same. He’s angry with Killian, that much is clear by the heat in his face and the tone of his voice as he spits, “How long were you fornicating with my wife before you finally had the stones to take her away?”

He nods in understanding, practically feeling sorry for the man who is still so clearly hung up on a woman he abused and chased away. “I suppose you must be Baelfire,” he says, putting his mug down on the bar and holding out a hand for a shake. It gets slapped away. 

“Yeah, I am. I’m also Emma’s husband, and I’d like to know where she is.” He’s clearly drunk, having had at least three too-many ales. Killian is most certainly not going to be giving this man any information about her. 

He smirks. “Who?” 

Baelfire scoffs, spitting on Killian's cheek as he does so. “Maybe a few whacks to the head will remind you.” 

“She’s dead,” he says, trying to come up with the fastest way to get Baelfire to leave. “Died a long time ago.”

“Dead?” 

“Aye, dead. Now what do you want?”

He’s starting to get irritated, as having to repeatedly call his wife dead is less than ideal. 

“So you stole my wife, and then you killed her?” He pulls out a stool beside Killian and takes a seat, staring in what he assumes is an attempt to be leering, although it seems as though his eyes may be going in two different directions. 

“I didn’t kill her, mate, and I certainly didn’t steal her.” 

“Well, I think you did.” 

“Tell me something, then,” he says, clearing his throat and turning as the anger at this man begins to fester. “If a woman comes to you and begs you to take her away... is that theft?” 

Baelfire lunges for Killian but he’s able to stand and dodge him quite easily, sending him falling onto the stool that Killian had abandoned. “Bastard pirate, you don’t deserve to live.” 

He laughs. “I’ve heard it all before, mate. Why don’t you get back to whatever gutter you crawled out of and leave me in peace.” 

“No,” he says as he stands. He’s shorter than Killian by several inches and decidedly not threatening. “I want a duel.” 

Killian scoffs. “A duel? Why?” 

“For my honor. You stole my whore of a wife and then murdered her in cold blood, I must assume, so I want to duel for my honor.” 

The look Killian shoots at him is one of confused disgust at Baelfire’s obvious oblivion. He wonders how someone can be so foolish as to assume that his wife being  _ murdered _ is any reflection on  _ his _ honor. He wonders how he can let the man go after saying such things about his wife. “If it’s a duel you want, then a duel you shall have. Though I must inform you that I'm a master swordsman and will more than likely win.” 

“A fight to the death, then.” 

Killian laughs now, throwing his head back. “Very well, gutter rat, have it your way. We fight to the death at dawn.” 

~~~~

When he arrives back to the ship, a bit drunker than he should be, Emma's laying in bed with a candle lit beside her, wide awake despite the late hour. “My darling wife, what are you still doing up?” 

She smiles as she sits up just slightly turning to him and intaking a deep breath. “I’m seasick,” she tells him. 

He cocks his head and moves to sit beside her. “You’re never seasick. Is it nerves?” 

“Hmm, must be,” she agrees, laying back down when his hand finds her scalp. 

“Well, worry not. You needn’t worry about Baelfire again after tomorrow, and then we can stay here as long as you like.” 

She sits up abruptly, glaring at him in concern as she hisses, “what?” 

“Aye,” he smiles and caresses her cheek, “Baelfire found me at the tavern and has requested a duel. One that I shall surely win.”

“Killian, no. Don’t go.” 

He shakes his head. “What do you mean, my love? I must go and eradicate any threats against you. I know a part of you wants to stay here, and once I win, we can do just that.” 

“I’m serious, don’t go! He isn’t worth it!” 

“Darling, don’t worry. He’s nothing but a drunken fool, and once we’re rid of him you won’t have to fear ever running into him again.” 

He thinks she may have tears in her eyes as they shine in the flicker flame of the candle. “I don’t want you to do this, Killian,” she says seriously. “You’ve left the pirate’s life. There’s no need to fall back into dueling.” 

“Alright, I hear you,” he says, stroking her hair soothingly. He feels her relaxing against his touch instantly.

As much as he wants to promise her that he won’t go, that he won’t leave at dawn to duel this man who has caused her such anguish, he simply can’t. 

~~~~

The air has a thickness to it that makes Killian uneasy. He hasn’t been in Misthaven in quite some time, but he doesn’t think he remembers feeling such sticky humidity when he was here last. 

He knows he’s being foolish. Emma told him not to come,  _ begged _ him not to, but there was something in the way that Baelfire spoke of her last night that set him off. He thought it may have been the ale he was drinking that made him so excessively angry, but hearing this man who vowed to love her call her a white and talk of her death so callously had him seeing red. 

“I see you decided to honor our agreement, then, pirate. I must say I’m surprised.” 

He rolls his eyes at the man’s cloying voice. “I am a man of honor, Baelfire, unlike you. Of course you’re surprised.” 

He scoffs, drawing his sword from the scabbard and pointing it towards him. “How do you come to the conclusion that I’m not a man of honor?”

Killian draws his sword as well. “No honorable man would strike his wife.” 

He guffaws, tossing his head back, and says, “you can’t say that until you marry a slag, mate.”

Killian snaps, lunging forward and clashing his sword against Baelfire’s. He fights back rather well, meeting each swing with a defensive block, but he’s no match for Killian’s decades of training. They spend a few moments gamboling around each other as they swing their blades. He’s making it too simple, his slow swipes easy to avoid and his weak blocks easy to break through. Killian becomes hard-headed when he thinks Baelfire may be tiring, letting his guard down and deciding to have a bit of fun with him, until the demon lunges at him with such violent enthusiasm that he falls to his knees. 

Killian had made a foolish mistake, thinking that Baelfire was a poorer swordsman than he. He is, of course, but Killian shouldn't have let his guard down, as he’s now allowed Baelfire to place his blade at his throat and kick his sword out of his grasp. “Do you know what it’s like to have your wife stolen from you? It’s like getting a sword through your heart,” he spits out, trailing the steel from his neck to his chest and drawing just a bit of blood along the way. 

“She wasn’t stolen from you, mate,” Killian breathes out, and he isn’t sure why he’s still acting so foolish as to instigate the man holding a sword to his heart. 

“Let me show you how that feels,  _ pirate—”  _ he says, drawing back just slightly as he rears himself to plunge his sword through Killian’s chest. 

He isn’t sure how the hell he got himself into this position. One minute he was confidently parrying with this fool, beating him easily, and the next, his cockiness has gotten the better of him and sees him on his knees about to be run through. He tries to think quickly, about to duck out of his way and roll towards his own sword, when he hears her. 

“Stop!” she shouts, and his heart hurts more now than it did when he thought he was going to be stabbed. She stands before the both of them looking fierce and scared all at once, her fists clenched tightly at her side and her eyes the size of saucers. 

“Emma,” Baelfire says, dropping his sword and turning to her with a sinister smile. “Well, this is a turn of events.” 

“Bae, don't hurt him.” 

“Emma, get out of here.” 

“No!” she shouts at Killian. “You fool, I told you not to come!” 

“Enough!” Baelfire asserts, pointing the sword back at Killian. “This is a story I wasn’t expecting. My wife has fallen in love with the pirate, is that it?” 

“Bae, please just leave us be. Let him go now and you won't see us again.” 

He laughs condescendingly, dropping his sword once more, then gesturing for Killian to stand. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you Ems? You want me to leave you be so you can whore around with your pirate?”

The anger is back, flowing through Killian’s veins the same as blood. He gets to his feet and clamours towards Emma, facing her with his hands on her cheeks so that he can ensure that she’s alright despite the tears that are falling from her eyes. 

“Bae,” she continues, choking the word out as she looks down from his eyes. “If you won't let us go willingly, perhaps an exchange will do.” 

He laughs and Killian draws his brows together in confusion at her words. “I’d love to hear what you have in mind, strumpet.” 

He turns towards Baelfire again but Emma grabs his upper arm, grounding him. She holds out her other hand and lets something fall from it: a ring dangling from a silver chain. “You can have this back.” 

“Well,” he laughs. “Come then, hand it over.” 

She steps to the left, releasing Killian’s arm, and takes one stride towards Baelfire before it all goes wrong. She’s holding the chain in her left hand, and moves to pass it to him, but rather than accept it, he raises his heavy sword towards her and swings it downwards. 

He doesn't think, throwing himself in front of her and her to the ground out of harm’s way. He feels the sharp burn in his left arm immediately, but isn’t able to focus on that very well over the sound of Emma's screams. He’s on the ground, and she falls to his side, touching his face and weeping so forcefully that her tears fall onto his own face. She’s completely hysterical, but in his dazed mind he isn't sure why. He hears laughter above him and sees her face shift from fear and sadness to all-consuming fury as she reaches to Killian’s side and he hears the shrill swipe of iron against the cobblestone ground. 

He turns just slightly as she pushes herself up, hoping to stop her from injuring herself, but when he finally sees her through his blurred vision, he’s met with the sight of her sword plunging deep into Baelfire’s middle, as if he was moving towards her and she stopped him with the blade. 

She’s back at his side in an instant, breathing more heavily than he’s ever seen her, then she’s screaming for help and running her warm, wet hands along his face and his arm, and he wishes he could tell her that he’s alright and that she shouldn’t worry, but the icy heat that’s radiating from his hand is becoming too much, and his vision blurs into blackness. 

~~~~

He sleeps through cloudy delirium for what feels like eons. He hears faint whispers beside him from time to time, whenever he wakes, but the scorching pain of his arm makes it impossible to stay conscious, and he screams in agony until he feels sweet sleep taking him again. 

He isn’t sure how much time goes by before he finally starts to hear the things that people say around him. They toss out words like  _ infection _ and  _ loss _ and  _ stump _ , but he isn’t quite sure what those things have to do with one another. He hears Emma weeping beside him more than anything else, constantly whispering into his ears although he hardly comprehends her words. 

Too much time has passed, and he thinks he must be dying. That must be why he’s still in such great pain and numbness and why Emma remains at his bedside in tears, always whispering her thoughts into his ears and resting her head on his chest. She’s a strong lass, and would be fine without him, he’s sure, so her ongoing emotional outpouring tells him that something awful must be happening. 

More time passes before he’s able to comprehend what she says to him in the night when she must be unable to sleep. He’s discovered that he’s been in their bed, probably all this time, and she keeps a candle lit despite the darkness of the sky outside the window. He only keeps his eyes open long enough to take in the shadows of the room they share and the gold of her hair before they fall closed again. She must notice the change in his breathing as he wakes slightly, lifting her head from his chest and pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, though he can hardly respond. She moves her mouth to his ear and whispers, “come back to me, my love. We need you here now. I can’t do this without you. Please come back to me.” 

He’s sure she can do anything without him; she’s the strongest person he knows. She could become the captain himself and sail the crew across realms if she truly wanted to. 

His attempt to lift his hand and place it on her head in comfort fails, as he finds he’s still unable to move much, so he rolls his head towards her just slightly to tell her that he hears her now. He feels her whimper and cry in response, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheeks as she repeats, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” like a mantra. 

He uses it as a mantra himself as he falls back to sleep. He loves her. 

~~~~

“Are we sure he’s even still alive under there?” he hears someone say, and he screws his brows together. Of course he’s alive.

“Of course he’s alive!” Emma says, and he smiles just slightly at the fierceness in her voice.

He tries to say something, anything, to give the fools an indication that she’s right, but all that comes out is a pathetic grunt. 

She gasps so loudly that he jumps. “Killian!” she shouts, and he feels the mattress shifting under her weight as she bounds towards him. “Are you there? Killian, can you hear me?” 

When he opens his eyes, he’s met with the perfect view: her cleavage is directly in his line of vision as she fusses with his hair and face. He smirks, breathing out a soft laugh, reflecting internally on how long it must have been since he’s been met by such a sight. He hums out in satisfaction, causing her to draw back and glance down at her own chest. “You brute,” she says with tears in her eyes when she realizes to what he’s reacting, then reaches for a cup of water. 

“Hi,” he chokes out, finding his voice barely working despite his throat being less dry now. The door closes beside him as the men must've left them alone. 

She’s on him in an instant, kissing along his face relentlessly and getting tears on his skin. He laughs, finally able to lift his arms to try and hold her, but when he reaches both hands to her cheeks, only one makes it. 

Her face falls in response to his confusion, more tears falling as she sits up to straddle his hips and takes his left arm. When she raises it between the two of them and presses a kiss to the bandaged stump, his face must show how confused he remains. 

‘Baelfire,” she tries, holding back a sob. “He, he swung at me and you…” she can’t seem to finish her thought. “You’re such a fool,” she laughs and cries and shakes her head. 

“He… my hand?” He glances back down at the blunted arm but can't quite understand. 

“We couldn’t save it; it became very severely infected. I’m so sorry, Killian.” 

He chances another look, hoping it would be restored magically somehow and becoming disappointed when it doesn’t. “It’s gone?” he asks, as if the visual confirmation wasn’t enough

How is he to care for his wife with only one hand? How will he protect her, provide for her? “Yes,” she whispers. 

“But… how…” It’s as if he can’t get it straight in his mind. What sort of husband could he possibly be to her? 

“He swung,” she repeats, but he cuts her off before she has to recount the story again. 

“No. How will I… with just…” 

“Killian, no,” she says, taking his face in her hands once more. “You're capable of anything you attempt. This isn’t going to hold you back.” 

He feels himself slipping, his anger and resentment consuming him all at once as his thoughts spiral into ones of hatred for Baelfire and of the inevitability of his own failure. She’ll leave him, surely, as she deserves to be with a man who can provide for her and meet her needs. His face is falling along with his mood, and he drops his hand, no, his  _ stump _ , down onto his lap and lets his head fall back against his pillow. 

“Stop,” she says firmly. “Stop right now. I know exactly what you're thinking and you’d best stop it now, or so help me, Killian Jones, I’ll, I’ll,” she trails off, finishing, “I’ll skewer you like I did Bae.” 

That catches his attention. He looks up at her in awe and confusion and says, “you did what?”

“Ran him right through. The bastard tried to attack  _ my husband _ ? I think not.” 

He feels the corners of his face twitching upward at the visual she’s given him. He likely shouldn't be proud of his wife for murdering someone in cold blood, but that’s exactly what he is. “You ran him through?” 

She nods, giving him a shy smile, and gets off of his hips to sit beside him. “He swung at me and you jumped in line of his blade. He maimed your hand badly and there was blood everywhere when you fell to the ground, and I was just so upset. I couldn't even think. I grabbed your sword as he was coming back around to finish the job and I just…” she uses both arms to demonstrate the motions she must've made to stab through her ex-husband. Killian glows with pride.

“So you used those skills I taught you, then?” 

She laughs lightly, lying down next to him and hitching her knee up over his hips. “I’m not sure you're the one who taught me how to stab, I think it was more of a gut reaction to my husband being attacked.”

“Likely true, but I don't mind a bit of credit.” 

She laughs through some more sniffles, hugging him closely to herself before saying, “oh, I’ve missed you so. I thought for sure I would lose you and the…” 

She freezes, her arms clinging to him and her body stiffening. “The what?” Inhaling deeply, Emma nuzzles her nose against his neck and presses a soft kiss there before sniffling once more, as if she’s started to cry again. “What’s wrong?” 

“There’s something else you must know.” 

He yawns inadvertently; apparently the few moments he’s spent awake have exhausted him. “What’s that, my love?” 

She clears her throat, not moving otherwise, and says, “I’m pregnant.” 

He thought he was losing his mind before, but with this admission, he’s truly dumbfounded. “You’re… what?”

“Pregnant, Killian. With a baby.” 

“With a baby,” he repeats, tasting the words on his lips before letting them curl into a smile. “My baby?”

She snorts, sitting up to look at him. “I should hope so.” 

“Our baby.” 

She smiles at him sweetly, then it’s as if something has shifted for her internally and she stares him down seriously. “You went off to duel with someone, you dullard, and I want you to know how angry that makes me, because it’s not just about you and me anymore. Got it?” 

He realizes now that there was a deeper reason for her being so firmly against his plans to fight Baelfire, and this was it. The babe in her belly, growing happily in the home she’s creating for it. And he nearly put that in jeopardy. “I’m sorry,” he says, and she shakes her head. 

“It’s alright, everything is fine now. You’re okay, baby’s okay… we’re all fine.” 

He’s fighting sleep now, but staves it off a bit more to ask, “in your stress, you thought… you thought you may lose him?” 

“Or her,” she corrects softly. “But it’s been nearly three weeks since then and so far… everything seems normal.” 

Bloody hell, the thought of him being nearly unconscious for three weeks straight is mind boggling. He can’t believe he left her alone for that long. “Are you alright?”

She tips her head to one side in question and then nods. “Of course I am, now that you’re awake.” 

“With the babe, I mean. I know you were hesitant…” 

She smiles sweetly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she answers. “Once I found out, that feeling went away. I suppose it’s different, having a child with a man I love.”

He smiles back up at her and kisses the inside of her wrist. With the caressing of her fingers along his scalp, he’s trying hard not to let his eyes drift shut. “How am I to care for a babe with one hand?” 

She hums, leaning back down so that she’s on her back beside him, and takes his remaining hand in hers to place it upon her belly so he can feel the slight swell. “Perhaps we can fashion you a new apparatus. Maybe a nice frightening hook so you can keep up your fearsome pirate persona.” 

He laughs as he drifts away, rubbing his fingertips gently over her stomach, over their baby, and says, “you’re funny,” as he falls asleep. 

~~~~

He does get a hook, but only for operating the ship— he finds it easier to tie knots and manage the wheel. He recovers quite well from his three week flirtation at death’s door, once he’s able to keep solid food down and stand on his own. Emma’s helpful in his adapting to life without a left hand, but she never once coddles him and always assures him that he can still do anything he did before. 

He’s nervous for when the baby comes, assuming it’ll be difficult to properly care for them on his own with only one working hand, but Emma comforts him by reminding him that she’ll always be there for him, and if she isn’t, there are 12 crewmen who can lend a hand. He doesn't find her pun very funny, but he’s willing to let it slide, for her. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading :) I hope you liked it :) hang out with me on tumblr @elizabeethan, and feel free to leave kudos and comments!!


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